


Do Not Let It Grieve You

by Duck_Life



Category: All New X-Men (Comics), X-Men (Comicverse)
Genre: Gen, Humor, I'm Sorry, Telepathy, Tragedy, happy with a sad ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-04
Updated: 2015-07-04
Packaged: 2018-04-07 16:33:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,580
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4270287
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Duck_Life/pseuds/Duck_Life
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A mission goes wrong. Not everyone walks away unscathed. Not everyone walks away.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Do Not Let It Grieve You

Everyone has their own answer as to what’s the worst part of being an X-man. Some say it’s the uniforms. Some say it’s the constant fighting, not against enemies but amongst each other. For Jean, it’s that moment right before everything falls apart, that moment of hope in between tragedy, the calm before the storm in between raging hurricanes, when it really seems possible that, just this once, everything’s going to be fine.

And that’s when the building crumbles. The crack of the gunshots, _crack-crack-crack_ , and then the rumbling sound as the old pillars give way under the stress of all the fighting, the cracks in the foundation, and then the screams. They’re fighting for their lives, again, she and the X-men, just like always, and as the dust clears she counts the heads that pop up.

Hank, fine. Laura, Bobby, fine. Warren, fine. And she’s searching and she’s circling and _oh God, oh God_ , but then there he is, Scott Summers rising from the ground and brushing the rubble from his shoulders. “Let’s get the hell out of here,” he advises, and no one’s inclined to disagree.

None of their assailants follow them—either all dead in the collapse, or scared off. In the jet back to the New Xavier School, Hank’s already thinking up a mission report. Jean tunes in, just for a moment, just to hear him thinking _No casualties_. She breathes a sigh of relief, because it just doesn’t feel _real_ , it feels like they were so close to death it could be hanging over their heads, looking over their shoulders. She feels like if they don’t go fast enough it will catch up with them.

Scott’s clapping Bobby on the shoulder and grinning, _Good job with those ice shields, buddy_ , and Jean smiles and leans back in her seat, tries to relax.

“That,” Warren says, plucking a dislodged feather, “was _way_ too close.”

“Pfft,” says Laura, smirking at him. “We survived.” She takes the feather out of his hand and sticks it in her hair. Barely walking away from a near-death experience seems to put her at ease. Jean’s just beginning to comb the dirt and dust out of her hair as best she can when she hears Bobby make a startled noise.

“Um,” he says, still not having shifted out of his ice form, “um. I think? I got shot.”

Jean whips her head around so fast that all the dirt and dust goes flying out of her red hair anyway. “ _What_?”

“Well, there’s a hole-”

“ _What_?” she says again, launching herself across the jet to get a closer look at him. Sure enough, Bobby’s upper thigh sports a nasty bullet wound. Hell, she can see clean through it. “What the hell?”

“I’m,” Bobby says, and gulps. “Jeannie, I think I’m gonna start screaming here in a sec, might wanna back away.”

“Holy shit,” Warren says, helpfully. “Bobby, don’t shift out of your ice form.”

“Yeah, thanks!” he yelps, staring at the hole in his leg. “Kinda figured that out, Warr!” Frost spreads out across the seat around him as he panics.

In the pilot’s seat, Hank calls back to Bobby and tells him to “hang in there,” that they’ll be back soon.

“I GOT SHOT, HANK.”

Laura rolls her eyes. “I got shot, too,” she shrugs, waving around the bullet she removed from her shoulder like a souvenir.

“I GOT SHOT AND I DON’T HAVE A HEALING FACTOR.”

“You’re made of _ice_ ,” Hank points out, not looking away from their course of direction. “It’s not exactly a _wound_ , it’s just an ice hole.”

“You’re an ice hole,” Bobby mutters.

Jean’s hands flutter awkwardly above Bobby’s leg. “Look—Scott will know how to help you.”

“Scott absolutely _does not_ know how to help him,” Scott corrects her.

“ _Big Scott_ will know how to help you.”

Little Scott frowns. “I don’t like the implication that _I’m_ ‘Little Scott.’”

“CAN EVERYBODY JUST _SHUT IT_? I GOT _SHOT_.”

“You should use that as a pick-up line,” Laura suggests, smiling at him.

“Wait, why?”

She grins wickedly. “Because it’s a great icebreaker.”

“SHUT IT.”

They arrive back at the school without further incident, but Jean still feels nauseous with worry. Bobby insists on being carried, so Hank scoops him up fireman-style and hauls him into the base, the rest of the X-men trailing behind.

After that, everything, if it’s possible, gets even more hectic. Illyana won’t stop obsessing over how Kitty’s going to kill her once she finds out one of her students got shot and Big Scott seems more concerned with the mission than with the sizeable hole in Iceman.

Finally, Emma pulls Bobby aside and looks him straight in the eye. “Just reform it,” she says. “Create more ice to fill the gap. You’ll be fine.”

“I,” he says, still panicky. “I can’t.”

“Do you want me to do it for you?”

“No.” His older counterpart has told him how it feels to have Emma Frost messing around in his head, and he’s not eager to try it anytime soon.

“Well.”

Bobby takes a shaky breath. “How…?”

She rolls her eyes. “Like you’re making anything else. Make some ice.” With everyone watching closely, Bobby puts a hand over his thigh and shuts his eyes, concentrating. “I could sing ‘Let it Go,’ if you think it would help,” Emma says. Bobby doesn’t respond.

His shoulders stiffen, and then he moves his hand to reveal smooth ice, no bullet hole to be seen.

“Hurrah,” Emma says with a flat tone. “Alright, you’re free to change back now. Or, if you like, you could stay in your ice form and go spoon the twelve-pack of Coke we just bought to keep it cool. The fridge is full.”

“I’m good,” Bobby says, and he is. All that fear and anxiety melts away as he shifts out of the ice.

So why does Jean still feel her heart pounding furiously in her chest?

They’re preparing dinner later (which consists of whatever anyone feels like sticking in the microwave), the kitchen a hub of activity, when Emma pulls Jean aside. “Didn’t get to talk to you earlier, what with all the commotion of the Fun Pop getting shot.”

“What’s a Fun Pop?”

“What? Those… it’s like a popsicle in a plastic tube.”

“You mean Otter Pops?”

“What the hell is an Otter Pop?” They stare each other down for a long moment before Emma shakes her head. “Whatever. Anyway, I wanted to ask how you did today. Were you able to get inside the minds of the people who attacked you?”

“I…” she sighs, feeling suddenly short of breath. “I _tried_. Everything was happening so fast, and I was trying to use my telekinesis and telepathy at the same time, and dodging bullets and… I just—I can’t do it all. I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine, you’re still learning,” Emma says, and Jean has no idea how long it’s taken for Emma to be able to say that to a student of hers. How long it’s taken for her to find a way to cope with losing her first students. And now… “You’ll improve with time. You will, Jean. You’ll have to.”

Jean’s beginning to feel the tears pooling in her eyes, and she blinks. Across the kitchen, Scott glances at her. _You okay?_ he mouths, not wanting to get the attention of the others. And Jean smiles, and nods, and feels her throat catch.

Emma looks between Jean and Scott once, then again, and then leans in closer to Jean. “You know,” she says quietly, in a much gentler tone of voice than Jean has ever heard her use, “it isn’t fair to fool your friends.” And she isn’t referring to Jean lying about being okay.

Jean doesn’t take her eyes off Scott. In just as quiet of a voice, she replies, “What about fooling myself?”

“That isn’t fair either.”

When Jean nods in understanding, one tear streaks down her cheek. “I just… I don’t understand. Yours is still-”

“Oh, I don’t know how time travel works,” Emma says. “But I know how telepathy works. And I know you’ll never be able to keep this up.”

Scott’s holding two different flavors of Ramen in his hands, looking back and forth, deciding. “You don’t know that,” Jean says, but she knows she’s wrong. She’s known since the crumbling of the building, the crack of the gunshots, _crack-crack-crack_. Bobby got shot. He should have been the only one. _Oh God, oh God,_ he should have been the only one.

“I’m very sorry, Jean,” Emma says, and she really is. Jean’s never seen her like this, sad and kind and very sorry. This is Emma Frost after losing someone, even someone who isn’t quite the someone she loves. Not yet. “Let go.”

Jean nods, crying full out now, and she hangs onto that moment. That moment of hope in between tragedy, the calm before the storm in between raging hurricanes, when it really seems possible that, just this once, everything’s going to be fine.

When she blinks, Scott Summers vanishes.

And everyone’s looking around and asking where he went, what happened, and Jean wants to tell them but she can’t speak, she’s standing still in the kitchen looking at the spot where Scott Summers vanished, where Scott Summers never really was, but she’s still standing outside watching the building collapse, counting the heads that pop up out of the dust, _crack-crack-crack_ , _oh God, oh God_.


End file.
